


The Show Must Go On

by Poetry_pessimist



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels, Apocalypse, Demons, End of the World, Gay, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-04-08 06:12:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19101316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetry_pessimist/pseuds/Poetry_pessimist
Summary: The year is 2008 and Crowley has the Anti-Crist. He does not want the Anti-Christ. No one would. But he has him anyway.So instead of doing what he's told (per usual), he decides to raise him, himself, and well with some help from Aziraphale. Which causes some conflicted feelings, and things well...it's best you see for yourself.





	1. We Are Not the Champions

Aziraphale was late. He was never late. Angel's were never late. That was a fact that God had, at some point, made. Not that there was any writing of it, the decision of what Angel's could and couldn't do had happened long before paper, pens or even the concept of writing notes had even existed. He was very much panicking about it. He strolled very frantically down the dirty, London pavements towards Hyde Park. It didn't really help that it was nine o'clock, so the rush hour was in full swing. The only bit of comfort that Aziraphale had, was from the fact that Crowley was always, and I mean always late. It seemed that around the same time as God deciding that Angel's would always be on time, the devil had decided to make sure demons were always late, the Devil had gone through a faze early in his career, which had consisted purely of contradicting God. Aziraphale was never sure whether the late rule applied to the time agreed by the parties to meet, or to the time that one of the parties arrived. Aziraphale was pretty sure Crowley did it in purpose anyway, he was a slippery little snake at the best of times.

At the other end of Britain, it was a sunny day in June that was much in contrast to Aziraphale's dull london. It was still June there, just much less sunny. It was a beautiful day, a great day, the perfect day for the Devil to finally bestow a child unto the world. A dark hole had appeared in the middle of a graveyard in Glostashire. Why the devil had picked Glostishire, Crowley did not know, since this was clearly in the realm of God. But he had, so Crowley was now driving his old Bentley down the dusty country roads in preparation to collect the child. His car was blasting Queen's 'We are the Champions' at him. He did not feel like a champion.

This affair  had only become knowledge to him earlier this week that the Devil would finally give his child to the world, just as God had done over two thousand years ago. Crowley was surprised how long it had taken the devil to retaliate against his creator, although that had probably been down, only partially, to Crowley, who in his reports always said that he didn't think the world was ready for an apocalypse yet, or he was so close to getting the soul of some famous celebrity. But the time had come, and of course Crowley had to be responsible of it. It's not like Beezlebud had anything to do with their life, but it had to be Crowley.

He had finally reached the field, and turned the engine off. He looked in the car mirror to make sure that his usual look of unfazed smugness. He couldn't let anything break when he was around them. Stepping out of his car, he sauntered into the field, in his usual sauntering fashion. He marched over to the hole, mud sticking to the bottom of his designer shoe like a tree frog to a tree. The hole in question wasn't a particularly wide hole, but it was however, a deep one. This hole was so deep that it suparsed the centre of the earth and went straight into hell. Waves of fire lapped out of it, liking the grass and flowers, charring them like meat on  a barbecue. Crowley wasn't the only at the hole. A few of the other demons had gathered around to. They all looked at him with a hint of disgust. They hated him, hated him for receiving this honor. If that's what you could call this.

"Hail Satan," greeted Hastur.

"Hail Satan," growled Ligur.

"Um, Hi," Crowley replied calmly "My Lord," he said greeting the hole politely.

"Crowley," the hole replied, "I trust that you have it all prepared,"

"Of course, Lord," Crowley replied formerly. He had got in contact with the Satanic nuns in the nunnery, and arranged to have the child swapped with another. The child would be raised alongside the humans, until they were all ready. The nuns, as with anything he wanted them to do, was very excited.

"Well done Crowley," the voice boomed from the depths.

"Thank you Lord," Crowley replied, his head dipped down. A baby was raised out of the depths of the hole, heald by tentacle like flames, and lowered it to the charred ground. Slowly, he walked towards the baby. He had never been good with children, so he picked  up tentively, unsure how he was even supposed to hold it. The child's skin was bright red. He wasn't sure if this was the child's natural skin colour or, if that's what children looked like after they were born. Crowley cradled the child in his arms, it's black eyes were watching him curiously and intelligently. His eyes were far to intelligent yo be that of a baby.

"Make sure that he is ready for when the time comes," the voice from the hole boomed.

"Yes Lord," Crowley said finally. The hole began to seal again. Earth spurting out the hole and filling in the edges, like it was vomiting. The other demons watched him angrily.

"We will be watching you," Beezlebud said aggressively. "And him,"

Crowley nodded and hastily made his escape. Only once he reached his car had he discovered that he had no way of getting the child to the nunnery. He pulled the car door open with his foot and placed the child lying  down in the chair. He snapped his fingers and a baby car seat materialises with a pop in the passengers seat. He gently placed the child in the new seat, and strapped the child in tightly. He could not risk killing the son of the devil. The child that was going to end the world, and begin the apocalypse. He looked at the tiny little baby, dangerous little world ending hands. It gurgled and giggled, and did what seemed to be a toothless smile at him. Oh great. Crowley pounded the accelerator with his foot, and sped down the road, at an unreasonable rate for the bumpy, pothole ridden country lane. He really did not want to hurt the baby. It kept giggling widly everytime they went over. Crowley found himself slowly getting annoyed at the child, who was seeming to find delight in the horrid mutilation of his beautiful Bentley, but everytime he looked at the babies face he couldn't help smiling. It may have been the spawn of the devil, but it was adorable.

After an hour, Crowley finally reached the motorway, after two hours, they finally reached London. This was down to the fact that there was a traffic jam, caused by Crowley's genius idea to persuade the government to remove the hard shoulder, and create 'Smart Motorways', which certainly not smart, and caused entire motor way to go out of use, putting it all to a stand still. Crowley had been very proud of it, and it had certainly served it's purpose. Crowley was annoyed, he was never this annoyed. He was cool as a cucumber and relaxed as a sloth, but this was just infuriating. Once he had reached the centre of the city, he had given up waiting, and was just driving straight down the road as fast as he could, black taxi's swerving out of his way as quickly as they could. He raced through, finally reaching Soho. He brought the child out of the car, and ran down the cobbled street towards a small book shop at the end of it. It was a tall thin town building with massive love seat windows in it. Warm yellow lights glowed from inside. A wooden sign swung over the top that read "A. Ziraphale's rare and unusual bookshop," Crowley hammered on the door "We're closed, sorry." a soft voice came from inside  the shop.

"It's me!" Crowley yells. There is a small gap of silence, then a dark shadow passes over the glass fronted door. The door clicks open. "Hello dear," the angel greets him happily. Aziraphale is smaller than Crowley but most people were. He was a hug able kind of shape, almost like a Hobbit. His features were soft and rounded, from his nose to his cheeks, much in contrast to that of Crowley.

"What, are you doing here, Oh my Gosh is that a child," he said stunnedly.

"Yes," Crowley replied unsure really how to explain what was going on. "Crowley did you steal a child? Really dear, I would have thought that was beneath you."

"No, no, I didn't steal him, well not really, someone gave him to me," Crowley sighed, still struggling to find the words to explain.

"Who could have possibly given you a child?"

"The Devil,"

'Wait is he.."

"The Antichrist?"

"Yes?"

"He is. He's the Adversary, Destroyer of King's Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Father of Lies, Prince of this World, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness." Crowley sighed annoyed.

"You shouldn't be here, if they find you here, they will kick me out and I don't even know what they would do to you." whispered Azaphale quietly

"They won't, honestly," Crowley donned his best pleading face at Aziraphale. Aziraphale's face softened.

"Alright dear, come in, I'll put the kettle on. Just don't stay too long, dear." He says opening the door fully and letting Crowley and the Destructor of the World in. Aziraphale's bookshop was small, as most shops were in the smaller alleys of Soho. It was filled with mahogany book shelves and old armchairs made out of faded floral fabrics. Although everything was dark in the shop, it's massive windows provided plenty of light. The whole shop smelled of musty books, which even Crowley couldn't help but love. There was a small counter with an old golden checkout machine with ornate little swirls on it, and an engraving of  two angels on it. The counter had quiet obviously not been used in a while, as it had been piled high with paper and books. An overturned Oscar Wilde book sat on a wooden coffee next to a plump chair. "So, dear," the Angel says bringing in two cups of steaming hot tea and placing them down on the table with the Wilde book, "Why did you bring the child to me and not send him to wherever you were meant to,"

"We may need something stronger than this," Crowley replies eyeing the brown liquid wearily.

"Crowley, dear we can't get drunk. This is a child and a very serious matter I might add. I know your side likes disobedience, but if my people find out. Oh, dear, I can't even imagine what they would do to me,"

"My side believes in general disobedience but not disagreement unto themself," sighed Crowley. "That's even more reason for you to follow your orders." Aziraphale shakes his head.

"Oh come on Angel, you like earth as much as I do. The humans in it to." Crowley began to wrack his brain for Aziraphale's weird and niche intrests. He suddenly spotted the brass gramophone, "No more Beethoven, we've got all the top class musicians, no more Mozart, Bach, we've got all the Brahm's. No more Proms. No more Albert Halls. What Musicians have you got? Elgar and Liszt. Can you imagine an eternity of that?"

"Too easily," sighed the angel, staring moodily down at his tea.

"Just you lot strumming your golden harps-"

"You, know as well as I do that we don't play Golden harps," the angel huffs fustratedly.

"Yes, and we don't have don't have horns and pitchforks, but you get my point," Crowley argues.

"Ineffible," the angel mutters sadly, feeling a slight dread at this imminent future, as I am sure we all would at the idea of eternity with Liszt, even if many people have no idea who he was.

"No more Edinburgh festival, no more Oscar Wilde," Crowley yelled waving the book in front of him at the angel. Yelping, Aziraphale grabbed the beaten up book and hugged it close to his chest. "Be careful, dear. That's a first editions. It's signed," he cried but Crowley was really on a roll now, "No more little book shops where you can buy Wilde, no more first editions, which reminds me: no more antiques, no more little restaurants where they know you, no more sushi,"

"Noooooo," Aziraphale cried his face dropping. Dramatically, he covers his eyes and shakes his head bewildered.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked defeatedly, his golden eyes looking up sadly at Crowley, "Wait no! I can't do anything. You're evil. It's evil. His father is the Devil" Crowley watched Aziraphale's inner conflict.

"Just because he's the son of the devil means he's inherently evil? Aziraphale you should know better than anyone that nothing is inherently good and bad. Anyway the Devil's choice to fall was exactly that, your parents choices do not effect their children, or at least not genetically. Genetically the child is an angel, but we know that doesn't have to last. The child is a clean slate. It's all about the upbringing," Crowley said now standing. He was very proud of that speech. He hadn't done a speech like that in a while. He looked down at the angel.

"You forgot about me earlier," the angel muttered quietly. He wasn't looking at Crowley.

"I did what!" the demon responded stunnedly.

"We were meant to meet in Hyde Park. I waited for you for two hours. I made sandwiches," he muttered sadly. Crowley's heart plummeted. "Oh, Angel, I'm so, so sorry. I forgot. I has to go, well you know," he gestured a nail varnished hand generally in the direction the sleeping child. He was honestly, terribly sorry. He thought he shouldv'e kept a calendar or a diary.

"It's fine, dear" Aziraphale sighed finally looking at his friend or enemy or something inbetween. He knew that Crowley was lying, that's what demons do. "Trivial things like that don't effect me. I'm swell, tickity boo, just peachy," He lied.

"Tickity boo?" Crowley mutterd confusedly, "Are you sure you're okay,"

"Oh yes, don't worry about me dear, these things happen. Now what's your plan?"

"We raise him. Together." Crowley says proudly. "Together," asks Aziraphale brow furrowing.

"Yes, your good influence and my fabulous ness  should even him out, and we should be able to raise a normal child. Not good or bad just normal." Crowley said. Aziraphale clapped delightedly. "Oh that is a wonderful plan, dear."

"You can have him one week and me the next. We could be father's," Crowley said excitedly. "Father's," Aziraphale grinned proudly, "Oh, I do like the sound of that,"


	2. Under Pressure

"Oh Satan," moaned Crowley suddenly launching out of his chair.  
"What is it dear?" Asclepius asked awkwardly picking up the child and rocking it backwards and forwards. The child giggled happily.  
"I just...um...need to deal with something quickly," he says panickedly getting up. "I'll be back in a few hours,"  
"Oh? Where are are you going dear?" The angel asked standing with him, a lot more gently though, as to not disturb the baby.  
"Just to run a few errands. Nothing to worry about, angel," he lied swaggering to the door, trying to hide his obvious panic. He swept down and grabbed a wicker basket that sat next to an umbrella stand. The bell on the door chimed happily as he left.  
"Oh well, be careful," Aziraphale called concerndly back.

Crowley cursed colourfully as he swung back in the Bentley and hurtled down the road at a speed that really shouldn't be possible in central London. He was in real trouble. If he messed this bit up then he would be dead, Aziraphale would be dead, which, was probably more worrying than his own destruction.  
"Ohshitohshitohshit," he yelled looking at the digital clock on his dashboard. He spun down towards Oxfordshire. Bumping back along the country roads, wincing everytime he hit a pot-hole. His poor car. Who ever had invented potholes were a million times eviler than him, well maybe not a million times, but they were pretty evil. He was so close getting there, so close.

The chattering nuns were getting worried. The ambassadors wife had arrived over two hours ago, and had been shrieking and screaming for the majority of that time. The baby was very much on it's way, and there was still no sign of their master's son or Crowley for that matter.

Unlike the rest of the nuns who had been given very serious jobs, Sister Mary Loquacious had been given the very exciting role of looking for a tub of biscuits with pink icing. Since she had found them and delivered them to the delivery room and been yelled at, she had taken to staring out the window. She liked to keep herself to herself, she often found that she annoyed her fellow nuns. They found her to be a bit of a scatter brain, and talked too much. She, however, thought it was part of her job, being a chattering nun after all, but no one else seemed to think that. She quiet enjoyed being a nun, she didn't have to think about very much, and life was ordered. She didn't have to do much other than deliver the odd baby. Though, she liked to think that if she wasn't a nun, she would run her own company, be a strong modern women. She liked that idea.

Meanwhile, in delivery room 4. Mrs Harriet Dowley, wife to the American Ambassador, with one last push, sweating and screaming, had finally brought a new life into the world . She heald him for a while, stroking the babies little head. She was exhausted, as you would be if you had just brought a new child into the world. The nuns left her be for awhile, before sweeping her child up to be weighed and cleaned. They promised it was "for legal reasons, dear,". Mrs Dowley pomptley fell asleep after that.

"The baby's arrived," Sister Mary heard one of her fellow nuns yelled down the corridor, "Has anyone seen the our master's son?"  
There was mumbled "No's" from the others, followed by some nervous chattering. The Manor was a large building, made mostly out of greyish stone. The high ceilings caused all the noice created in the building to be amplified to triple the volume. The nuns chattering seemed to grow louder and louder. It put Sister Mary on edge.  
Suddenly, the quiet from the outside was broken by muted rock music thundering down the road. Swiftly, Sister Mary turned to see the front of the Manor illuminated in the white of headlights. The car stopped, and she heard a car door slam. A dark silhouette of a tall, lanky man formed in front of the headlights. This was her chance. She raced excitedly outside.

Crowley swaggered towards the nunnery. The picnic basket swung by his side.  
"Hello, sir!" A nun yelled running up besides him, "Are you Crowley?"  
"Yes," he replied indifferently.  
"And is that the Anti-christ?" She asked excitedly pointing towards the basket.  
"Yes," Crowley answered again.  
"Can I see him?" She said gibbily.  
"No," he said dryly.  
"I bet he looks just like his father," the women giggled pacing after the Demon who was trying extremely hard to get away form her.  
"He doesn't, now, sorry what's your name?"  
"Sister Mary Loqua-"  
"Sister Mary, can you show me where the other child is so that I can swap them." Crowley interrupted impatiently. All he wanted to do was get this over and done with. He couldn't let her look in the basket. It was empty after all.  
"Oh, I can do that," the nun said grabbing hold of the basket and wrestling out of Crowley's grip.  
"Noooo," he thought. He was now truly screwed. This was the end of the line for him. No more life, he should have given a better good bye to Aziraphalre. Good bye World. He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for the impending doom. This was it.  
"Awww," the nun sighed. Crowley opened his eyes. In the basket, sat a tiny baby. It wriggled angrily. Crowley let out a sigh.  
"Aren't you just the cutest little thing. Look at your widdle hands. Have you got any hoovies woovies? No? You have got lovely little tossie wovvies, aren't you the cutest little demon, aren't you? The nun cooed, "I thought that maybe he would have horns or something."  
Crowley stared curiously down at the child. He had no idea where it had come from. He knew, thankfully, that it was not the actual Antichrist.  
"No, he hasn't, he is a perfectly normal child, in appearances only of course," Crowley replies much more calmly, but still eyeing the child suspiciously.  
"Awww, well, I'm sure that he'll be just like his father when he grow's up. Won't you? You will won't you, being all evil wevil, just like you're daddy waddykins," she said her interest very quickly switching from Crowley to the unknown child. Crowley sicked in a deep anxious breath, his snake tongue hissed anxiously.  
"Look, sister," Crowley hissed grumpily, " Can you please give the baby back to me and take me to where they are meant to be swapped."  
"Oh,'" the sister said slightly taken back. "Well, um, it's just down here, on the left, the staff room of sorts," Crowley sighed and headed off in the general direction that she had been pointing.  
"I'll see you later," she whispered to the child, before finally handing it back to Crowley.  
"Thank you," he said sarcastically pushing the door open marked 'Staff only'.  
Crowley, burst through dramatically.  
"Who are you?" One of the nuns asked, who was sitting at a tiny circular table, playing some sort of game of cards. The room was quiet large for a staff room, but with the amount of nuns in the Manor the size seemed applicable. A child lay in a small cot, neglected by the nurses.   
"I'm demon Crowley and I have the baby," he said, "I need the room to myself," the nurses all nodded and hurried out of the room obediently.  
With the room now empty, he let out a deep sigh. No more people trying to pry and prod at his plan. He put the basket down on the the table, and clicked his fingers at the child.  
Miraculously, it disappeared to go back to whatever it had originally come from. In it's place, was a red chequered piece of fabric, which Aziraphale had obviously been waiting use on a picnic. He had been pestering Crowley to go on one with him since the mid-sixties. Crowley gently unwrapped the Dowley child from the little blanket that the Nuns had originally put him in, and began to wrap him in the picnic blanket.  
There was a sharp knock on the door.  
"Hello?" A voice yelled.  
"Occupied," Crowley yelled back, then realised that wasn't probably the best thing to be yelling.  
"What," the person yelled back.  
"I need the room," he said. Flusteredly, he finished tying up the baby, it was an appalingly bad job. The baby wouldn't stop wriggling around. So he clicked his fingers and it fixed itself. He placed the baby back in the cot.  
Stuffing the blanket back in the basket, he sauntered out of the room.  
"Oh," he said suprisedly to the gaggle of nuns that conformed around the room.  
"Is he in there?" The nun at the front asked.  
"Yes?" Crowley replied trying to squeeze past them all. "Yes the Anti-christ is definitely in there. Absolutely, why wouldn't there be," he said awkwardly inching away. The nuns all ignored him, and rushed him. Crowley gave a deep sigh of relief.  
"What should we do with the other baby?" Sister Mary asks. This surprise Crowley so much that he jumps in the air.  
"Satan," he mutters, "Um, I'm going to take him to go be adopted somewhere. Discretely."  
"Oh no, we can do that if you like, sir," she said joyfully, ignoring Crowley's obvious attempts to brush her off.  
"No, no, no," Crowley said trying to reach the basket out of her reach, panicking that she would grab it again, "I know some people..."  
"Oh, okay," the nun said, "Good bye then," she yelled at the already fleeing Crowley. He did not reply.

The fake Anti-christ, who was really just her son, was delivered back to Mrs Dowley. No one had recognised that it was the same child, almost all baby's look the same at that age. After a long backwards and forwards between the nuns and the mother, Mrs Dowley finally settled on the name Warlock. She was quiet pleased with it. She thought it sounded very modern and quiet American. Warlock would grow up to have no idea of what could have happened to him. He would grow up to be good at sports, but was much more inclined to more quiet activities, like collecting tropical fish.

Crowley sped back to London as fast as he could. When he arrived back, he found that Aziraphale was quietly reading to the child. The book he was reading wasn't overly suited for a child, but the calming, British sounding voice seemed to calm him.  
"Hello, dear," the angel whispered. "Did you get it done. Whatever you needed to do?"  
"Yes, no one will be bothering us with the Anti-christ thing. If your people ask, he is the son of the American ambassador.  
"How very...well I don't know what to say? Americans? They'll make the apocalypse into some sort Hollywood Blockbuster that they can profit off of," Aziraphale sighs tiredly. "What were they thinking?" He shakes his head.  
"Well, it will keep them off our trail, and we've got the child now, so it's up to us to look after him properly, no interference from the head offices,"  
"Awful lot of pressure, don't you think?" Aziraphale said.  
"Well if anyone can do it, it's you and I," Crowley smiled faintly. Aziraphale nodded and they sit in silence for a while.  
"We should name him," Aziraphale said suddenly.  
"What the child?"  
"Well yes, I think it's a bit inhumane to keep calling him the Anti-christ,"  
"What were you thinking angel?"  
"Adam. I think that Adam's a good name. Half and half, don't you think, dear? The first human created and the first human to fall. I think it represents what we're doing nicely,"  
"Adam it is then,"  
They smile happily.

Somewhere in Tadwell about a week later, a women named Mrs Young had just gone into labor. She would have a beautiful, blonde haired baby in the Tadwell local hospital, rather than in the local nunnery where they had planned to have the child, due to the fact that it burnt down a week before. The boy was also named Adam due to his father wanting to give him a nice, British, biblical name. There was nothing unusual about the birth, in fact the sheer normalness of the birth made it peculiar. The boy would grow up to be extremely good at maths and have no idea what have become of him. The baby has no importance to the story whatsoever. Not really sure why I mentioned it in the first place.


	3. A Kind of Magic

Crowley had lasted three hours. Three hours.

"I can't cope," he moaned into his vintage telephone.

"It's only been a couple of hours," Aziraphale sighs back.

"He hasn't stopped crying at all. I have a headache. I didn't even know that we could get headaches. Do you know how painful they are. It's like a sledge hammer to the brain angel. A sledgehammer- to the brain,"

"Oh dear. Do you want me to come over? I'm not sure how much help I will be, but even just some moral support is better than none?" Aziraphale offered kindly.

"Yeah, that would be..." Crowley trails off, Aziraphale can here screaming in the background.

"Don't worry, dear, I'll be right over." Aziraphale said calmly over the phone. Crowley looked out the window, and realised that it was pitch black.

"No, no, don't worry angel. It's late now go back to whatever you were reading," he replied.

"No, I'm on my way, dear. Just need to lock up the shop," Aziraphale said.

"Or I could come over to the shop again," Crowley offered.

"No, no, I'm on my way over, dear. You've already been to the shop once. Like I said I just need to shut up then I'll be right over."

"Are you sure Angel, there are dangerous people out at night. Thieves, muggers, teenagers and other.....dangerous...um...people. I just don't want you getting hurt, Aziraphale,"

"It's only a thirty minute walk. I've been doing it for the last 6000 years. I'm an angel dear, I can handle myself,"

"I'm just worried..."

'I'm coming over, Crowley," Aziraphale ended. There was a long beep as he hung up the phone. Crowley just stared at the screaming receiver. He realised it wasn't the phone screaming, it was Adam.

Thirty-two minutes later, Aziraphale had arrived at Crowley's high end apartment in Westminster. It was the complete opposite of Aziraphale's little bookshop. It was exactly how you would imagine it to be. It was chic, sleek and cool. The walls were painted a shiny black colour, all except one which was painted an amber yellow, you know, just to spice it up a little bit. The room was neat in a kind of cold way. The lack of decor meant that all the ones that were there stood out remarkably. And of course there were the plants.

"Crowley?" the angel asked cautiously skanning the empty apartment. He looked behind the plants, there huge lush green leaves seemed like an completely appropriate place for Crowley to hide.

"Hello Azira- hey, don't touch my plants!" He said angrily, but with a soft playful connotations.

"Sorry dear," the angel said jumping, almost dropping the book in his hand. Confusedly, Aziraphale looks the demon up and down, "I'm sorry, Crowley I don't mean to be rude, but where are your clothes?" Don't worry reader, Crowley was not naked, this is not that kind of story, Aziraphale's concept of clothing was slightly different to most. It involved everyone wearing at least a three piece suit, to be considered proper. On the other hand, Crowley looked down at his black vest and boxer shorts.

"Oh," he said slowly, "The baby was sick on them, so..." he trailed off. Aziraphale looked horrified. He took his cream jacket off and placed it in a neat pile on Crowley's black desk. One hundred and fifty years, and not one stain He was not going to let it's tiptop condition be ruined now.

"Oh, um, I forgot....here," Aziraphale handed over a small book.

"What is this angel, you know I don't read," he said holding the book between two fingers with distaste.

"It's a book on parenting. It was the only one I could find in the store," Aziraphale sighed. "Sorry,"

There was a sudden wailing from Crowley's bedroom.

"I'll get it," Aziraphale muttered rushing into the other room. Crowley looked back at the book 'Motherhood: Your baby and you.' Crowley snarled disgustedly at the book and threw it at the fancy desk. The baby was still crying.

"What do you think's wrong with him?" Aziraphale yelled from the other room.

"You think I know anything about babies?" Crowley yelled back.

"Well I don't know, do you think he wants something?"

"I don't know, Angel. Why would I know?"

"Well, he is part demon, like you. Are there no, you know..... baby demons in hell?" Said Aziraphale.

"What?" Crowley yelled confounded, marching into the bedroom. Aziraphale was rocking the baby back and foward, snot falling out of the child nose.

"Angel, you and I, and all other demons and angels come from the same place. You know that. I don't know anything about babies, I wasn't even one myself. Neither were you. None of us were,"

"Oh, yes," Aziraphale said, realisation crossing his face. Crowley shook his head in disbelief, he had no idea how someone so old and wise could be so, well, idiotic. Suddenly, the phone began to ring. Crowley scrambled for it.

"Hello?" He sung into the phone.

"Crowley," Hastur sneered through the receiver.

"Oh, hello Hastur, how are things....grooving?" Crowley said strainedly,

"Grooving?" Aziraphale mouthed at him, from the doorway, brow furrowing.

"Shut up," Crowley mouthed back sarcastically.

"I'm doing....well. I'm assuming that the delivery was successful?" The other demon replied.

1"Of course, the plan went smoother tha peanut butter." Crowley said.

"That's what we like to hear, Crowley. Hell I very pleased with you," Hastur snickers, "And Crowley?"

"Yes Hastur?"

"What is that noise?" Crowley's face drops. Aziraphale notices and whispers, "Sleep tiny Adam," into the baby's ear. Promptly, he falls asleep, and the room falls silent.

"I don't here any noise. Are you sure it's not on your end?" Crowley asked.

"No, it sound like a baby crying..."

"Well that's very hellish isn't it?" Crowley says slyly.

"Well, it wasn't..."

"Better let you fix that baby problem. Bye Hastur," Crowley said putting the phone back on the receiver quickly. He let's out a deep breath.

"Well that was close," Aziraphale sighed.

"Yeah, well at least that's it. They're probably not going to call again, or least not for a while," He nodded in agreement. Aziraphale picked up the book that he had brought with him. The two of them spend the entire night going through the book, miracleing, both heavenly and satanicacly, all the things that apparently need: a small cot, baby clothes, milk powder, bottles and lots and lots of nappies. The two of them carried on for hours and hours. Crowley's home stopped looking like a chic London apartment to more like a children's nursery. They had sat and wrote notes on how to get babies to burp, to change their nappies, and how to switch them from soft to hard food. All information they never thought they would need. They had been doing it so long, that the sky had gone from an inky black, to a beautiful array of pink's and orange's to a bright blue.

"Oh heaven no!" cried Aziraphale. "The shop!"

"What?"

"I have a massive delivery today. Some of Oscar's, notebooks being delivered."

"Really Aziraphale," Crowley groaned rolling his eyes.

"You know I had to get them, dear. I couldn't let, them just let them fall into the wrong hands," Asclepius smiles delightedly, "and he also might also have some news on Agnes Nutter,"

"Oh?" Crowley muttered, he still has no idea what....who that was. "Can you not reschedule it, I feel like this is more important?"

"Well, um, I really need to go, I'm sorry dear," the angel sighed.

"Please angel, I need your help," the demon signed.

"Well...um....if you don't have anything else going on today...you can come and help at the store?" Aziraphale asked sweetly. Crowley's heart fluttered with the friendly farmiliarness of Aziraphale. His sweet smile, and bright eyes.

"Oh, alright Angel," he smiled slyly. Aziraphale blushed. Then Crowley blushed too. They got back in the car, and hurtled through to the Bookstore. Aziraphale pleaded him heavily not to drive, but it hadn't worked. He was now clinging on to the handle, and praying that he was not going to die.

"Oh, Hi Mr Fell," a woman on the street smiled kindly. She had short golden blonde hair, and eyes covered in aviator glasses. "Hello, Carol, it's nice to see you," Aziraphale greeted her kindly, he was gripping on to the top of the Bentley, trying not to vomit all over the already dirty pavement. "How-"

"Is that a baby?" Cried Carol's companion, another woman with short black hair. Crowley had just gotten out the car. "We didn't know that you were having a baby, we didn't even know that you had a boyfriend. Hello sir," she said waving at Crowley. Crowley waved confusedly back.

"We're not-" Aziraphale argued

"But it's not like you don't give off...'vibes'." Carol shrugged almost embarrasedly.

"Carol honey we live in Soho, everyone gives off 'vibes'," her companion rolled her eyes.

"Yeah I know." She sighed, before turning back to Aziraphale, "What's their name?"

"Adam,"

"Awww, how cute. Well if you ever need someone to babysit him, we'll be happy to look after him. Maria and I want our own little one at some point, we could use the practise." Carol laughs. Aziraphale smiled lovingly, "Thank you for that kind offer, dear,"

The two women joined hands and waved a goodbye, heading into the shop next to Aziraphale.

"Who were they?" Crowley asked suspiciously.

"Oh, that's Carol and Maria. They run the cafe next to the Bookshop. They're lovely people," Aziraphale said fondly. Crowley shakes his head. Tiredly, Aziraphale opened up the bookstore, turning the 'Open' sign round on the door. He led Crowley up the beige carpeted stairs, into the apartment above the bookstore. Like Crowley's apartment, it looked exactly like you would expect it to be. It was plain of furnishing, and was mostly covered in boxes of books, that Aziraphale had yet to sort. A small kitchen sat in the room next to it. The cupboards were full of shortbread in tartan tins and tea bags. Next to that was a bedroom, the bed was covered in tartan sheets that were very much in the same fashion as the rest of the Aziraphale's apartment. There was a thick layer of dust and cobwebs that seemed to cover everything in that room, due to the fact that it hadn't been properly used since the 50's.

"Really Aziraphale," the demon sighed shaking his head disaprovingly at the state of the bedroom.

"I thought evil didn't sleep?" Aziraphale said smiling.

"Evil may not, but I like a nice long nap," he sighed. This was completely right, Crowley once accidentally slept for an entire six months in 1864. It caused Aziraphale to almost have an angelic heart attack after not hearing from him, and then subsequently found him unconscious and then thought he was dead. He obviously was fine, and just woke up to a distraught angel, and decided never to take a nap that long again.

"Aziraphale!" A voice calls from down the stairs. Both the beings freeze.

"Is that the person you're meeting?" Crowley  whispered.

"No," Aziraphale replied, "That's Gabriel."

"Oh, this is bad," Crowley groaned. "No it's fine. I can just talk to him," Aziraphale said with a voice that alluded it was not fine.

"I can just explain what's going on,"

"No, you can't" Crowley hissed, "They want war just much as my side does. They'll kill you Aziraphale, and I mean permanently,"

"Well I can't just lie. I'm meant to be the good one. Lying is what you're side does. They're understand. Won't they?" Aziraphale said nervously.

"They won't angel, and don't think of it lying but as twisting the truth. Not lying exactly, just hiding some of the important facts," the demon reasoned, the angel was too frustratingly innocent for his own good.

"Aziraphale?" Gabriel continued to yell.

"Okay, okay, okay, I can do this, just twisting the truth. Okay," Aziraphale sighed. He straightened his bow tie and jacket, and walked down the stairs.

"Hello Gabriel, what are you doing here?" Aziraphale said with faux surprise. Gabriel, or Gabriel's vessel at least, was a good looking man, he was the typical human definition of tall, dark and handsome.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" Aziraphale asked politely.

"Tea, I would never plague my celestial body with those human toxins," Gabriel snarls with superiority.

"Oh, um, well nevermind." Aziraphale said disapointedly. "Anything that I can do for you then Gabriel?"

"I'll cut right to the chase, I'm sure that you have heard that the Anti-christ has arrived," Gabriel sighed imperially.

"Oh, yes some of my people had told me about that." Aziraphale said trying to smile to disguise his panic.

"Yes, and did these informants tell you where he is now?" Said Gabriel fustratedly.

"Well they..um...well they told me that he was given to the American Ambassador," Aziraphale said flusteredly.

"Well done, Aziraphale," Gabriel applauded, he paused and looked curiously into the air "Something smells....evil here." Aziraphale looked panicked, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead and just muttered, "Um..well...you see,"

"Mr Fell?" Yelled Crowley from upstairs. Aziraphale's heart leaped. What if Gabriel noticed his voice from when he had heard it before back in the eighteen hundreds.

"Oh, I'm extremely sorry Gabriel, I have a client upstairs, I just have too.."

"No, no, get back to your human," Gabriel said obliviously, "You don't have much time left to do this sort of thing left, eh, Aziraphale. Make the most of it," He elbowed Azirapale in the stomach a little too enthusiasticly, causing Aziraphale to wince. Gabriel did not notice. Instead, he marched self assuredly out the door, allowing Aziraphale to let out a large sigh.

"Before I leave," he said rounding the corner again, "What was it with all the baby stuff yesterday?"

"Oh...um...I was doing some miracles at a children's ward?" Aziraphale said hopefully.

"Oh, well keep up the good work. We're nearly there," he said, way too excitedly to be referring to the end of the world.

"Thank you, Gabriel. See you soon," He waved a quick goodbye and hurried back upstairs. Crowley had managed to singlehandedly managed to miracle all the baby equipment from his Apartment to Aziraphale's sorry-looking bedroom.

"Thank you for that, dear. That was incredibly ki-"

"Don't say it." Crowley commanded. "And it was no problem anyway," he smiled.

"I feel terrible about lying," the angel sighed shaking his head.

"Azriaphale, it was for the greater good. There's no crime to it. The only crime here is this heaven forsaken bed,'

 


	4. Time Waits for Nobody

Aziraphale felt terrible about lying to Gabriel about the baby stuff, so spent the next week or so, miricalling medical supplies to various under funded hospitals in the general London area, while also trying to look after the tiny baby. In the beginning, Adam didn't do much, he slept, he cried, and he drank milk.

"There a bit boring aren't they," Crowley said one night, rocking the child back and forwards in the cot.

'"What's that dear?" The angel replied.

"Babies." He muttered, "You know, I thought they would do more. There meant to be tiny humans aren't they? He just never does anything,"

"Ah yes, but you have to train them first, dear." Aziraphale said watching Adam stick his whole hand into his mouth.

"So do we have to train him to be like a mini human, or like a mini versions of us,"

"Human," Aziraphale replied thoughtfully. And that's what they tried to do. Pretty unsuccessfully to begin with. As you can imagine.

Upon Crowley's wishes, things started getting much more interesting with Adam, when he was about nine months old. This was when he could finally crawl. It was chaos. When Aziraphale designed his shop, there was at no point any way that he would have imagined there would be a nine mounth old baby scampering around it on all fours. Adam also had developed a love of chewing, which was more just putting anything in his mouth, and Aziraphale's bookshop was taking the toll of it. One night after Azriaphale uncovered a particularly soggy copy of 'The Great Gatsby', Crowley decided to move all of the books on the bottom shelves somewhere else, out of Adam's reach.

"Thank you, dear. I never would have thought to move the books," Aziraphale said delightedly.

"Oh, stop. It was nothing really only took me a couple of minutes," Crowley lied, it had in fact taken him most of the night, as well as the evening before,"It's not like I had anything better to do," he shrugged. This was also a lie; Crowley had fallen behind on his temptations and hell was getting suspicious, or he could have been sleeping.

"Honestly, dear. Thank you," Aziraphale smiled adoringly, he had no idea how a demon could be so sweet.

"Stop it," Crowley bashed him playfully on the arm, turning away quickly to hide the blush that had painted his cheeks.

The next thing on the agenda of training Adam to be a human was to teach him how to walk. At first it was Adam gently heaving himself onto his feet using Aziraphale's arm chair.

"Crowley! Crowley! He's doing it! He's standing! Dear!" Aziraphale yelled delightedly. Crowley sauntered into the room slightly faster than usual.

"Finally," Crowley muttered, a slight smile slipping across his lips. "It's about time he did something," Even though he feigned disinterest, he could feel little inkling of pride swell in his chest, towards the little boy. So they began to teach him how to walk. It was slow to begin with, Aziraphale let Adam's chubby little hands hold on to his fingers, supporting him as he shakily wobbled along the wooden floors. Crowley slithered a few steps behind in snake form, guiding a plush velvet pillow, in case, you know, he fell over, which it seemed Adam did a lot. After a while, Adam learned to try and walk on his own without the assistance of neither of the beings, causing them to run around the store wildly everytime they heard a loud clonk, desperately searching for it's source. This meant they kept on running up to shopper, who were looking rather sheepish after dropping a particularly expensive book.

Embarrassingly, neither of them had worked out about baby proofing until twelve months after Adam's birth. They hadn't even worked it out themselves, but it was instead the lesbians from next door who had come around onr day with baby clothes, and remarked about how dangerous a bookshop was for him. They had then installed a baby gate to stop him falling up or down the stairs, and put those little rubber things on all of the pointy edges.

Crowley had taken charge of feeding Adam. Aziraphale had tried, since food was his area of expertise, but after getting increasingly angry at Adam refusing.

"He just wouldn't eat it, dear. It's food how could he refused it. Humans like food don't they, dear?" Aziraphale had sighed defeatedly, "I like food," Crowley had listened to this all patiently, nodding intrestedly, and had eventually suggested that he should give it ago. He had strapped Adam into his Tartan highchair, which Aziraphale had insisted was stylish, and tried to feed him the sloppy, sticky baby food. This had not gone as planned. Half of it had ended up on Crowley's designer black shirt, the rest had scattered itself in Crowley's spiked hair. The baby had giggled delightedly clapping his tiny hands. Crowley was not impressed. So instead, he decided to try a new tactic, making funny noises until the baby was so distracted that he would just eat the food.

"Hear comes the aeroplane!" He sung at the baby feeling embarrassment that he hadn't felt since he had Fanboyed over meeting Freddie Mercury. Aziraphale actually found it rather charming. It revealed Crowley's softer side, knocking down all the suave walls that he had built up to protect himself from the scorn of hell if they found any weakness. Before this there had been only one person that he had shown that side too. Aziraphale.

Aziraphale couldn't help smile when he saw him do it. On the other hand, Aziraphale's smile only made Crowley feel more embarrassed. He was making such an idiot of himself in front of his Angel. That's not who he was? Was it? He was Crowley, the cool and confident demon. Not soft and loving. He carried on anyway.

Characteristically, Aziraphale had taken the role of teaching Adam how to speak and read. Most afternoons he would plonk Adam on his lap and read him story's.  Most of them in the shop were not entirely child friendly. But that didn't stop them ploughing through, anyway.

Most of the time, Aziraphale would just walk around the shop pointing at random objects and yelling their names.

"Book," he yelled at of the many dusty bookshelves.

"Ooh!" Adam replied happily.

"Indeed, and this a table," Aziraphale continued pointing at the mahogany side table.

"Gah!" The baby squealed.

"Oh, and a pen," he said holding up a posh fountain men with angel engravings to the baby, completely unfazed by the fact that Adam could not reply in a language comprehensible to humans, or Angel's for that matter.

"Aah!" The baby nodded inquisitively.

"Very good, dear," he smiled proudly. Crowley was very confused by this exchange, but pleased to see them getting on.

It was a sunny day again, when Adam said his first word. All three of them had gone down to Hyde Park, the duo's second rendezvous point. Happily, Aziraphale had brought a basket full of breadcrumbs, while Crowley pushed Adam in a basic black pushchair. They got a lot of odd looks from some of the passersby. Aziraphale wondered why. On the other hand, Crowley glared intently at them, cursing them with a hell-full gaze. If only God could see this odd pair now, well, obviously God could. Maybe the better phrase would be if only their head offices could see them now.

They settled themselves down on a wooden bench, while Aziraphale scattered breadcrumbs for the small malards that had collected around their feet. Gently, he handed some to Adan who copied his example.

"You see young Adam dear, that is the river Themes," Aziraphale said softly pointing at the water running in front of them.

"Emes!" Adam yelled happily, he was slowly getting better at talking.

"Very good dear, and those two men over there are MI5 and KGB agents," Aziraphale pointed at the two men opposite them also feeding the ducks. One was dressed in an oversized dark black fur coat, while the other sat miserably in a suit jacket that was far to small for him. The baby nodded seriously, the acronyms being way too complicated for him to even attempt.

"And that," he said pointing at the creature dabbling at their feet, "Is a duck,"

"Duck!" Yelled Adam.

"Indeed," Aziraphale said vacantly, then he paused for a moment trying to recall the previous moments amazed. "I'm sorry....can you...repeat that?"

"Duck!" Adam yelled again.

"Crow...crowley," he stuttered delightedly, "Did you hear that, dear? He said his first word. Adam said duck!" The angel was beaming radiantly

"Twice I do believe," Crowley replied. He smiled too, it was smaller than his companion, but it was still there.

'Oh, come here," Aziraphale said wrapping his arms around Crowley's wiry body. Crowley blushed deep red, a colour that he didn't think he could turn, something must have been faulty in his body, and awkwardly patted Aziraphale on the back.

"Alright angel, alright," he muttered warmly. Aziraphale let go and went instead to hugging a happy Adam who was singing "Duck duck duck duck duck,"

In case you were wondering Adam's second and third word were "dear" and "angel", you can probably work out why.


	5. Friends Will Be Friends

"Right, Aziraphale, remember, we are normal humans," Crowley said to a flustered Aziraphale, who was frantically straightening his bow tie.

"Normal humans," Aziraphale repeated vacantly.

"And Adam is our son,"

"Adam is our son," he nodded.

"And we are just ordinary parents,"

"Exactly," Aziraphale nodded skeptically, not entirely believing any of the words coming out of his mouth. They weren't lies, but they weren't the truth either.

"You're going to be fine angel," Crowley said squeezing his hand comfortingly. "Just let me do all of the talking,"

Aziraphale smiled worriedly. He could do it he thought. He had been here since the beginning. He had survived wars, famines and the reign of terror, of course he could do this.

They strolled along the squishy black pavement that could only be found in playgrounds. Multicolored climbing frames were littered around the fenced off area. A round-about sat in the middle, it wasn't as fun as it used to be since the new health and safety regulations had been introduced. Nothing in playgrounds were fun with health and safety regulations. No one was sure if they were a heavenly or demonic invention, but none of the less they were always annoying. Health and safety that is, not playgrounds, but then again they could go either way too.

The two beings ignored the play park and continued on to the low concrete building that sat in the centre of the playground. It was boring looking, somehow more boring than most of the out of all the boring residential brick buildings that surrounded it. The long window of the building were covered in childlike drawings and coloured paper haphazardly cut into the shape of animals like butterfly and birds.

Crowley didn't let go of Aziraphale's hand until they headed through the the double glasses paneled doors. They ended up in a reception, a tired looking women in her forties sat behind a wooden desk, covered in sheets of paper and letters with absolutely no order, even if an empty paper tray sits beside her. Unbeknownst to her she has a pen stuck in her bun, she put it in their earlier, and for the last four hours it's been drawing on the back of neck.

"Hello Ma'am," Crowley says formally, leaning his lanky body down on to the desk.

"Are you the parents of Adam?" The women asks not looking away from the computer screen.

"Yes?"

"You can sit over their," the woman said pointing vaguely in the direction of two low-down sofa.

"Um, you've, oh never mind," Aziraphale sighed. The pen that was once in her hair was no longer there. The two of them sat down, Aziraphale sat with his back completely straight, his leg nervously jotting up and down. Crowley lounged out, his leg stretched over the floor, his arm was draped over the back of Aziraphale's chair.

"It'll be alright, Angel," Crowley whispered to Aziraphale.

"I do hope so," the angel sighed back. They had to wait a few minutes before somebody yelled,

"Mr Crowley?"

"Yes?" He replied.

"I'm ready for you now," the woman replied. She didn't wait for either of them to reply before clipping back into her room marked "Headteachers Office" with her massive high heels. The two beings scampered in after her. "So, you're Mr Crowley," she said sternly in Crowley's direction. He nodded. "And this is?" She looked at Aziraphale.

'This is my husband," Crowley grinning floppily. He looked almost giddy, as if he had been waiting a long time to say that. A small golden ring had appeared on his ring finger. It was a pair of extended golden wings wrapped around his finger. Aziraphale stared at him stunnedly.

'Um.." his muttered. Crowley grinned and shrugged.

"Indeed,' she said turning up her nose slightly, "I'm Mrs Harris, and you want to inrole you're son....." she checks her computer screen "Adam, here?"

"Yes, we would," Crowley said. "So what's Adam like?" She asked.

"Um well..."

"He's a lovely boy," Aziraphale said interrupting Crowley, "He likes animals, especially ducks, he likes playing in the park with his super hero figurine," (Captain Marvel courtesy of Carol and Maria), "and he is very good at reading, he's well ahead of what he's meant to be at this age," Aziraphale enthused proudly. He had spent a long time sounding out letters to Adam, until he could eventually form those odd symbols into words. He was so proud of him for it.

"Oh, good. And does he behave well with other children?"

"Yes, he's fine," Crowley said, this was neither true nor false, Adam hadn't been around other kids that much.

"Well that's all we really need to know, just need to check your in the catchment area, where do you live?" She said tapping at her computer again. "Um..." "A.Z. Fell's Bookstore on Greek Street in Soho," Crowley said filling in for the angel, who was so terrified, that he almost forgot his own address. "I just need to fill out some of the personal information." She begins to tap onto the computer. The two beings sat very quietly, anticipating what was too come next. Aziraphale had never been so worried in his very long life. The woman reminded him very much of the Archangel Micheal from tone all the way down to looks. The poor angel was full well expecting her to turn into Micheal at any moment and drag him back to heaven to be killed.

"So you two are the soul legal guardians of Adam?" She says dryly.

"Yep, we are," Crowley said.

"Okay may have your full names please, so I can upload it to the database, you first Mr Crowley,"

"Okay, so I'm Anthony J Crowley," he said. "What does the 'J' stand for?" She asked not turning away from her computer.

"It's just a J really," Aziraphale muttered innocently under his breath. Crowley looked at his companion stunned. He remembered. A blush spread over Aziraphale's cheeks, as he sneaked a look at Crowley.

"Oh, okay. And your husband?" The teacher said blandly, ignoring this whole silent exchange.

"Azira Fell," he said.

"Oh, do you not share a last name, if you're married?" The woman said looking at them curiously. To her these two were a very odd couple. A man who looked like an eighties rock star, the secret love child of Mick Jaggar and Freddie Murcury with a bit of David Bowie mixed in for good measure and a man that looked like a misplaced university professor of English who seemed very anxious about his situation unlike his partner who was stretched out in his chair. They couldn't have been more different if they had tried.

"Well you see, I own a book shop, and well..." he trailed off.

"Zira here thought it would be too expensive to change the name of the sign and the shop." Crowley picked up, sounding tired.

"Yes, so we got married, but we kept our names," Aziraphale concluded.

"Oh, so what's Adam's last name?"

"Crowley-Fell" Aziraphale snorted at this.

"No allergies?" Mrs Harris asked still ignoring them.

"Not that we no of," Aziraphale said trying to recover from the bout of laughter that was trying to escape him.

"Well that's all we needed. The school should be in contact with you over the next week or so. Thank you and good bye," she got out of her seat abruptly and began shooing them out of the room. The beings got up slightly surprised by being forced out the room, which Aziraphale found rather rude, and staggered out the room. They walked, or swaggered in Crowley's case, in silence until they reached a suitable distance from the school to be sure they would not be over heard.

"She was terrifying," Aziraphale muttered quietly, "Are we sure we want to send Adam there?"

"It's the only one in the catchment area," Crowley said sadly, "You know she reminded me of my superiors, you know down in hell." Aziraphale nodded in agreement,

"She reminded me of mine too," They walked on more collective silence, until Aziraphale began to laugh. It was a warm and homely sound, Crowley usually found it comforting but not now.

"What?" He asked.

"That surname," Aziraphale giggled shaking his head.

"What Crowley-Fell?" Crowley said obliviously.

"Well that is indeed true," Aziraphale snorted. Crowley's face dropped at the realization of what he had done.

"Noooo," he whined planting his head in his hands. "What have I done?"

"No, no, it's fine dear," Aziraphale said suddenly panicking that he had embarrassed Crowley and hurt his feelings, "it's just quiet funny. No else will understand it. It can be our own little in joke."

"Yes...well...it's just embarrassing," Crowley huffed fustratedly, crossing his arms in the process.

By the time that they got home, collected Adam, made dinner and put him to bed, Aziraphale was fully ready to sit down after his long and stressful day with a nice book and a glass of hot chocolate or wine, he hadn't decided yet. He wasn't entirely sure where Crowley was. He was pretty sure that he was somewhere in the shop, just not exactly. He was just about to snuggle up, when Adam came racing down the stairs.

"Are you alright there dear?" He asked kindly. Adam looked pretty shaken, his bright blue eyes were wild and startled. His curly blonde hair and space ship pyjamas were disordered and chaotic, from being in bed.

"I...I.. think there's a monster in my wroom," Adam whispered as if his monster could here him.

"Do you want me to come check for you?" Azriaphale smiled kindly. The little boy nodded quickly. "Alright then dear, I'll be up soon," The little boy hurtled back upstairs ungracefully.

"You really are too soft on him," Crowley whispered in Azriaphale's ear.

"Dear me!" He yelled jumping away, "Please don't do that again dear!"

"You really should just tell him that monster's don't exist." Crowley said matter of factly. "Instead of just pretending to check everytime he get's worried."

"He's got a good imagination, we shouldn't ruin that." Aziraphale smiled. Crowley rolled his eyes, and leaves Aziraphale alone at the bottom of the stairs.

Adam's room was a subtle shade of yellow. It had been Aziraphale's choice, in fact Aziraphale had insisted that he paint it himself. Crowley had thought it would be better if he just miricaled a nice room, but Aziraphale had insisted that the room had to be made with love. As soon as Aziraphale started Crowley was forced to help (with very little persuasion however). They had both very unexpectedly enjoyed it. Now, it was littered with Adam's toys that had yet to be put away. The bed that Adam was presently wrapped up in, had a spaceship duvet and Adam was squeezing a cuddly duck toy. Aziraphale opened the wooden wardrobe,

"Anyone in their little monsters?" He crouched down to look under the bed and was greeted with the steely eyes of a disguarded teddy bear,

"Well, they appear to have disappeared," Aziraphale smiled. Adam looked at him expectantly.

"Do you want me to read to you then?" Aziraphale asked sitting down on the bed next to Adam. The little boy nodded furiously.

"Okay, little one, which one do you want?" He bent down to pick up a book for Adam.

"No, can I have one of your own stories," Adam said excitedly. "Please?"

"Alright dear, now then, there was once a man in the eighteenth century and he decided to pop over to Paris to get some Crepes,"

"Mmmm...Crepes," Adam grinned.

"Absolutely," Aziraphale smiled, seeing that he had raised Adam correctly. "Anyway, he went at the worst of times, you see this was during the Reign of Terror, and all the Bourgeoisie were being rounded up,"

"Boar-jessie?" Adam asked.

"Bourgeoisie, there like the upper class, posh people,"

"Oh,"

"So this man went to France dressed in the style in London at the period, because he had standards, even if others he knew didn't," Aziraphale sighed. "Anyway, the revolutionists captured the man and locked him up. He was chained and tied down with steel locks. It was very unflattering. Eventually, one of the French revolutionaries came to kill the man, and when he thought all hope was lost, a guardian angel appeared," Adam's face was wrapt with wonder. Aziraphale smiled.

"You see it wasn't a true guardian angel, but was one of the man's friends, one of his best friends in fact. They had been friends for years and years, and the man had been praying for his guardian angel to appear. For this guardian angel was really a magician, both of them were. He had also decided to dress in the fashion of of the revolutionaries, which was usually not overly fashionable, but somehow he managed to look very handsome in it"

"Anyway, the guardian angel stopped time, stopping the revolutionary killing his friend and removed the cuffs. They swapped clothes with the revolutionary, who the guards then confused with one of the Bourgeoisie. He was arrested and the two men escaped without a scratch on either of them. After a semi-stern telling off from the guardian angel, the two men went to have Crèpes, they were the most delicious that they had ever tasted. The end." Aziraphale smiled nostalgicly.

"You said the man was a magician. Why didn't he just magic himself away?" Adam inquired with that voice children always seem to use when they find holes in the world.

"Well you see, the man had been using too much magic, and the magic agency had told him off," Aziraphale explained. Adam looked disappointed.

"However," Aziraphale said trying to recover, "I think he was secretly hoping that his guardian angel would come and rescue him. They hadn't seen each other in a while and he was beginning to miss him,"

"Cool," Adam yawned and muzzled his duvet. Aziraphale kissed him on his forehead.

"Goodnight, little one," He got up and walked out the room trying to quietly close the door behind him. Crowley stood awkwardly leaning against the door frame.

"Angel-"

"Goodnight Crowley,"

* * *

When Aziraphale went to check on Adam later that night he found a snake had slithered around his chest, as if he was trying to hug the boy. It's red, black and gold scales glinting in the moonlight. It hissed peacefully in it's sleep. Aziraphale could fill an overwhelming sense of love every that night, not just in that room, everywhere in the house. He closed the door again.


	6. Sweet Lady

It was Adam's first day at school, and they were all excited; Adam was excited because he was going to be able to make new friends, Aziraphale was excited because he was watching Adam grow up, Crowley was excited because school's were the home of many parent drama's, which is the ultimate hot-bed for petty evil. Crowley's favourite kind of evil. He watched as groups of parents huddled together, ready to judge people for anything from, their jobs to the fact that the they didn't turn up to a PTSA meeting last week. Oh he could smell the evil. And it was glorious.

While Crowley eyed up his new evil deed, Aziraphale was trying to tuck in Adam's shirt.

"You're going to be great, Adam," Aziraphale said kissing the little boy's forehead. "And remember, you don't have to have lots of friends, just ones that you trust and love,"

"What like you and Dad?" Adam asked. Aziraphale beamed.

"Exactly like that my dear boy,"

"And," Crowley began, bending down to give him a hug, "If anyone is mean to you, just tell me. I'll deal with those little-"

"Crowley," Aziraphale warns, "There just children,"

"Well so is he," Crowley said ending his tight squeeze of Adam. A bell rings from the front door of the building, confirming the start of school.

"Of you go," Crowley said fondly. Adam waved happily as he skipped into school, waving back at the two beings as he went. Aziraphale and Crowley waved back proudly.

"Excuse me," a high, relatively posh voice said to them, "Are you his parents?"

They turned to see a women standing near them wearing a aura of self importance. She was accompanied by a women who somehow looked exactly the same as her, other than the base complection.

"Yes?"

"I'm not homophobic," she began, dear reader if anyone ever begins a phrase with 'I'm not homophobic', whatever is about to be said, surely will be. "But are you really sure raising him is in the child's best interest?"

The two beings looked at each other confusedly,

"Why wouldn't it be?" Aziraphale asked.

"Well," the woman said, "Children need a womans touch to feel comforts They need motherly love. I read that children without a woman's influence are more likely to grow up to be criminals," she looks her companion for comfort, who nods at her furiously in agreement. Crowley began to cry with laughter, so much that Aziraphale began to chuckle to.

"My dear woman, him becoming a criminal is the least of our worries," chuckled Aziraphale. She looked aghast by this.

"Honestly Ma'am, I knew people more accepting than you back in the eighteen hundreds." Crowley said flicking his glasses up to reveal his yellow eyes and wipes his tears. He leaves his glasses up just a little too long, and stares intently into the woman's eyes, a smirk crossing his face. "You know there were some very nice gentlemen clubs back in the day," he whispered to Aziraphale .

"What?" Aziraphale said looking stunned and also slightly worried.

"Anyway, masclintity and femininity is all a scale, being male and female does not always equate," Crowley shrugged.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter to us either does it dear," Aziraphale continued.

"No, and you don't know anything about our gender presentation," Crowley growled.

"And it wouldn't effect us as parents anyway," Aziraphale concluded.

"But....but..." the said looking astounded.

"Come on angel, let's get lunch," Crowley said turning away from the two women.

"Isn't a bit early-" the woman began.

"Oh yes dear, that sounds absolutely scrumptious," Aziraphale smiled. The two of them walked out of the play park towards the road.

"Well I think we just did a bit of miraculous enlightenment. Don't you dear?" Aziraphale said looking highly pleased with himself.

"I don't know, I feel like we just annoyed her, which is exactly what I set out to do," Crowley replied smugly.

"Well, maybe we did both. Being the ultimate angelic and demonic team,"

"You think we're a team?" Crowley asked, a slight blush spreading across his face.

"Of course," Aziraphale cried, "We're partners, I mean how long has the Agreement been going on now, a thousand or so years,"

"Yes," is all Crowley can squeak.

Adam on the other hand was very quick making friends. Not overly on purpose, it just sort of happened. The first person he made friends with, was a boy named Brian. Brian was a sort of Ron Weasley character. Loyal to the core, and not the most tidy of people. He introduced himself to Adam at the beginning of the day, and just never left his side.

They met a girl called Pippin Galandriel Moonchild. This as it would for most other four year olds and caused Brian to laugh violently. Pippin punched him in the face. They began to fight, although it wasn't really a fight, it was just Pippin beating up Brian if I'm completely honest. She didn't really have a fighting style, just her grabbing and scratching and punching anything she could. Eventually, with great force, Adam managed to pull her off Brian, and announced that she would be a great member to their small band of friends. She agreed. From that day foward Pippin Galandriel Moonchild would been known only ever as Pepper.

By lunchtime, the three of them had made a tight friendship, the kind of friendship that can only be made by a group of thrown together four year olds. They were going to sit and unpack there slightly squashed, home-made sandwiches, when they spotted a boy sitting on his own. He was almost the exact stereotype of a nerd. Thick rimmed glasses, dark hair and pale skin. The small band felt a bit sorry for him, so decided to sit with him. The boy automatically forgot his name, as many people do when put on the spot, and introduced himself with the contents of his sandwich. Wensleydale. This, however, did not seem strange to a group of young children who's imagination had yet to be tampered with from the outside role, so none of them noticed. This was it. The famous 'Them', although nobody knew that yet. Everyone just thought that they were nightmare children, like adults always seem to think about children.

The one strange thing about the Them was that all of their parents had come from the same small town, Tadfield. They all randomly gave up their village lives to move to London a couple of months ago.

The next morning, an excited Adam was preparing to leave for school. Aziraphale was packing his backpack, when Crowley strolled down the stairs. A black skirt brushed agains their bare knees. Their scarlet blouse floated around them. Their short hair is now curled.

"My dear, you look stunning," Aziraphale beamed.

"I do, don't I," Crowley replied beaming back.


End file.
